


On Your Trail

by ElAlmaDelMar



Series: A/B/O/tober 2020 [30]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Sabaody Archipelago, Scenting, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElAlmaDelMar/pseuds/ElAlmaDelMar
Summary: He was going to have to go looking for the stupid swordsman, which was the mostback to normalthing he could possibly imagine.Day 30: Scenting/scent tracking
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Sanji
Series: A/B/O/tober 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947415
Comments: 5
Kudos: 167
Collections: A/B/O/tober 2020





	On Your Trail

"The swordsman?" Shakky leaned across the bar, cigarette perched between slim, beautiful fingers. "He went out." 

A part of Sanji longed intensely to stay. She was beautiful, alluring — a stunning alpha woman, all power and control wrapped in a subtle, keen-eyed package. She was everything he had dreamed of for a very long time. 

And yet, had also not dreamed of for a time that was longer than he cared to admit. Those days were behind him. 

And he was going to have to go looking for the stupid swordsman, which was the most _back to normal_ thing he could possibly imagine. And was highly tied up in the reason that his dreams had not featured company like Shakky's in longer than he cared to admit — longer than the two years he'd been on Momoiro. 

With a lingering curl of regret wrapped around his heart like the lingering scent of her cigarettes (a different brand than his, something with an herbal afterscent that was odd, but not unpleasant in the least), he stepped out of the bar and oriented himself, raising his head to breathe in the scents of the island. Somewhere out there, the mossbrain was doubtless wandering like a little lost child, waiting for an adult to come find him. 

After so long immersed in the… particular culture of Momoiro Island, Sabaody felt like a breath of fresh air. No one looked twice at him. No one saw him as a blank canvas for their wild artistic imaginings. No one was trying to stuff him into lace and satin and chiffon that hugged his body far too sensuously; no one was smearing scented cosmetics on him that utterly covered up his natural omega scent, granting him a sort of anonymous ambiguity that he reveled far too deeply in. Things were _simple_. He was back to the real world. He wore a suit and existed in his own skin, in his own scent. He looked like himself. 

It was too much to hope that he'd pick up Zoro's scent from here, he told himself — he wasn't Chopper, after all. But maybe he could at least get something like a starting direction. Smell the scent of looming trouble and find the brute naturally in the middle of it. 

But as he closed his eyes and focused himself in on the story his nose told him, really paid attention to it, dug into the layers of people and trees and seawater… _there_. 

Zoro hadn't been gone too long, he thought at first — and then realized that no, that wasn't it. Shakky had said he'd left over an hour ago. It was himself — he was better at picking out these things, more highly attuned to his environment. Two years on the run would do that. And he caught a thread. Sword-oil and tea and sweat.

_And stupidity_ , he told himself, and set off, following the elusive trail. How different would Zoro be, after two years? How different were any of them? 

There was no such thing as following a straightforward path when he was trying to locate their wandering cactus. His feet took him to a noodle stand — Zoro hadn't stayed long there, he didn't think, perhaps just looked at the offerings and moved on. (Good. Those noodles were appalling.) Then on through the offerings of the various groves, pausing here and there, following a trail that looped back on itself, doubled down alleyways, and stopped in some of the oddest places. 

A pet store? Sanji sniffed around — subtly, of course, for unlike _some_ people he could actually be discreet when the situation called for it! — and determined that Zoro had stopped to pet one of the dogs on display, a long-limbed creature with a dignified, sober mien that belied its place in life. 

A menswear shop? On the surface, it should have made sense, but this was a finer establishment than the barbarian ever set foot in; no simple athletic shirts or ratty old haramaki here. If anything, it was the sort of place Sanji would get his clothing — formal, good quality, nothing suitable for heaving around compensation-sized weights here! And yet the grassy moron had spent a long time in here, wandering the aisles. Long enough that Sanji decided it would be worthwhile to ask the proprietor for assistance. 

"Did a man with green hair come by here a while ago?" he asked the young beta staffing the shop — who started to answer, but then paused, an uncertain look in his eyes. 

"Green hair?" he asked, and could not have been more transparently buying himself a moment to come up with a story. "I don't know if I recall…" 

"You'd remember him," Sanji said, more feelingly than he'd really intended. "Big guy, alpha, bright green hair and a dumb face. Wore a belly band, too." 

Oh yes, that stalling face had a decided guilty cast to it now. "Ah — well, we get a lot of people through here. I don't really remember them well." 

It was tempting to get pissed at that. Sanji hated getting lied to. But he couldn't afford to cause a scene before he'd found the rest of the crew, and particularly the swordsman whom it was his job (apparently) to wrangle. So instead he grumbled, "Fine, then," and left, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

Where to next? The swordsman had paused at several eateries on the very cheap end of what Sabaody had to offer, but Sanji didn't think he'd eaten at any of them. No, he'd looked and then moved on. 

The algae-brain's scent grew stronger, fresher, as Sanji made his way to the coast. Finally, progress! 

At the coast, he hit a dead end. Had the moss rented a boat? Where would he go? Casting around, Sanji found a fisherman nearby, wringing his hands and muttering to himself in consternation. 

A fisherman who most _definitely_ had seen Zoro, although the mention of _one eye_ made Sanji frown. What had Zoro gotten into over the last two years? You needed depth perception to fight properly! 

"He said he wanted to catch some fish," the fisherman said nervously. "Said something about a proper gift for a crewmate, and of course, good fresh fish _do_ make a nice dinner treat, but he was supposed to wait right here 'til I was ready to take him out…" 

"Don't worry about it." Sanji almost went to pat the man's shoulder, but stopped himself in time. On Momoiro, there'd been no social stratification by gender — primary or secondary. No one cared about barriers, no one cared about propriety. But he was back in the real world, and as an omega, touching a strange alpha would come across… badly. 

So instead he just waved a hand expressively. "He's an idiot who gets lost every time you take your eyes off him. It's not your fault. Maybe he'll solve all my problems and stay lost." 

It was a light joke, very much their usual, but the fisherman still gave him an odd look as Sanji settled in to wait. 

He didn't have to wait long, either, before an eruption of shattered ship breached the sea's surface. And with it… yes. The spot of green and steel-and-tea scent he'd been searching for all afternoon. 

They grimaced at each other and exchanged a few ritual insults, and then Zoro reached a hand inside his (rather fetching actually, definitely a step up) green coat. "Got you something, cook," he said, and held out a soggy box. 

"Was it wet to start with or is that a pleasant side effect of you being a lost child?" Sanji sniped automatically, taking the box with a raised eyebrow. Only just reunited, and a gift? 

"It's a warning, mouth off and you go overboard with it," Zoro shot back. "Just open it, twirly." 

"Maybe I should shove it down your throat instead," Sanji shot back as the box… well, dissolved more than opened, really. 

The tie inside hadn't been all that attractive to start with, and the salt water had done it no favors. Still, there was an odd sort of artistry to the water-distorted dye, and the color was… good. Attractive. 

_A gift from my alpha,_ his heart purred, and he laughed, finally leaning in to press his cheek to Zoro's. It was the first time they'd shared scent in two whole years, and something settled back into place as he did. 

Zoro leaned into the scenting, then turned his head to breathe into Sanji's hair. "Been a long time," he murmured, low and husky. 

"Long enough I'm not even mad that you're getting me wet," Sanji said in return, a low laugh riding in his words. "I missed you, marimo." 

"Missed you too, love cook. You like the tie?" 

"I like the tie." 

"Good." 

"Let's go home, hm?"

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on my [Discord server](https://discord.gg/SWVYBBn)!


End file.
